The Layton Mission
by Celeste K. Raven
Summary: Truth, lies, confusion. The combination of it all makes Emmy nauseous, and she doesn't appreciate the feeling very much. She has a mission to focus on. *Spoilers for the Azran Legacies*
1. The Truth

**Phase I: The Truth**

Uncle Leon told such gorgeous stories about how Emmy ended up in his care. Mostly they wove their way between his teeth while he taught her how to cook.

''Make sure you level that off. No- not in the bowl; do it over my hands. Good, now, would you like to remember how we met?''

His narratives were erratic. The details were jarring, disturbing. Leon paused every so often to ask Emmy if she was upset.

She wasn't.

**- - PL - - **

''Don't stare at me like I'm banishing you, Emmeline. This is for Targent.''

Emmy loathed the way her uncle spoke when he folded himself into his 'superior officer' persona. She made sure he knew it by banging her heels on top his desk and letting her head droop over her shoulder. He shoved her feet back to the ground with a growl.

''You think you're _old_, don't you, Emmeline? You can't remember a time when you weren't training. Aren't you ready to know what I've been preparing you for?''

''To find out the secrets of the Azran? To keep Targent happy?''

Leon slammed his hand down right in front of Emmy. She examined her uncle's strong fingers and hairy knuckles. They probably stung.

''How can you be my niece and not understand what Azran technology could do for the human race? Every mission we complete brings England closer to understanding cancer or perfecting 3D printers. You are blessed to be a part of this!''

Emmy knew what missions were for; they were dragged out to make her feel important and sometimes (maybe _this_ time) they sent her away from the Nest when the workforce stirred and gave her uncle a reason to worry. Leon used missions to coddle her.

''You're to track the activities of Hershel Layton by taking a position as his assistant. You are not to harm him or make him aware of your motives; for now you will watch and keep an audio log.''

Oh. Hershel Layton was not a coddle mission.

Emmy sat up straight and blinked into the haze of sunlight that was bleeding though the significant gaps in the blinds. The cloud of light was obnoxiously bright inside her uncle's workplace because it was mostly bare. Her uncle had power and therefore no time to drift around seeking motivational posters for his office.

''Is Layton a professor of archeology?''

''Yes…'' Leon's face was pinched with suspicion, which was irritating.

''I spoke with him once. I don't think he'll be easy to fool. Did you choose this mission for me?''

''I chose Targent for you, Emmeline. That is close enough.''

That's what Uncle Leon did when he was trying to be impressive. He called her Emmeline.

**- - PL - -**

Emmy didn't have an address, she lived 'upstairs'. The highest building in the Nest was two things: proof of Leon's impressive ego and the location of their bedrooms. There'd been an apartment once (closer to the ground; smothered by pollution), but Uncle Leon wanted a place where everyone would forget that he was taking care of a child. Targent didn't know how to nurture little girls.

No one ever told Emmy to pick up her room, not even once. She wore shoes when she needed to navigate the riskier areas, but there was a –mostly- clear path through to her bed. It was on this twin bed that she was reading about Hershel Layton before her uncle entered without knocking. He never gave warning.

''Did anyone assign you an email address to use?''

''Umm… hmm.''

Leon was graceful as he made his way around Emmy's mess. He ended up squatting at her bedside with his hands clasped near his knees. Knuckles cracked.

''Hey, Em… Do you want to remember how we met?''

Emmy dropped the newspaper on top of her crossed legs. Her uncle had been delicate the past few days; it was his way of throwing a tantrum- not because she was leaving, but because he couldn't find a way to control how long she would be gone. Emmy knew for sure now that he hadn't assigned her the Layton mission, but it didn't make her feel sorry for him. Leon had summited the mountain of Targent's power. He should've been clever enough to change the situation if that was really what he wanted.

Emmy traced her uncle's intent expression with her eyes; then she answered his question.

''Yes, alright.''

This is what he said to her:

''Ms. Altava was very skilled, and very blonde, and Targent wanted her quick mind to crack codes. She lived with her four-year-old daughter (you), and that was it. I too big for the Altava mission, but we had recently located one of the Azran's sacred places of worship, and in my restless ecstasy I threw myself at the only mission available. Ms. Altava did not resist us; she only requested that her child be allowed to live. Targent doesn't kill children for the sport of it, as you know, so her request required nothing of us but to leave you alone. However, the man who led the mission was a jackass and took a ridiculous pleasure in ordering me around for the short few minutes when I wasn't his superior. He loudly ordered me to throw you into my car and drop you off at the nearest orphanage. I did no such thing.''

''Uncle-'' Emmy burst out. She would've stayed silent all the way through any other tale –that was Leon's rule and he could be very harsh about it- but her uncle had never mentioned Targent in one of his stories before.

''What? Am I upsetting you, Em?''

The intense look on Leon's face upset her. He was strangling her bedspread with a desperate grip.

''No… duh.''

''Alright then. The car… Do you know that you cursed at me while I wrestled you in? There was no car seat, obviously, so I stuck you on the floor of the backseat and listened to you throw a raging hissy fit. You threatened to end my life once or twice. Crash the car; punch me in the throat… some fit mother Ms. Altava must have been. She was never very useful, actually, but she's still here. Assisting Targent… not missing you, of course. She doesn't know that I gave my mission leader the biggest damn shock he ever received by raising the Altava baby. And here you are, still blowing Targent away with your mere presence. How about that?''

''That… makes no sense,'' Emmy said in a dizzy voice.

Leon stared and waited.

''You kept me all these years to spite your underling?''

''Emmy…'' Leon reached out his arm and cupped her face in his hands. He had that look in his eyes that he usually had while he held her hair back and she spit her sick onto the gymnasium floor. Pride; totally different from pity. ''I want you to know your genesis before you leave for the Layton mission. I'll answer any questions that you have.''

Emmy's ditzy remarks broke apart and gathered together again as anger while Leon caressed her face. She had a question.

''What the hell is wrong with you? What possible reason could you fathom for telling me this right before I'm about to play Layton's assistant. I don't need any distractions.''

''Distractions are going to come, Em, but you are my fabulous little actress. You will not unravel for the professor to see, I'm sure.''

She grabbed Leon's hand with her gorgeously strong grip and held his hand still, no shaking.

''My real name is Emmy Altava, yes? You didn't change my first name?''

''Your name is Emmeline Bronev.''

His voice was so deep and _sure_. It pissed her off.

''I'm going to pick my name now. I want to be called Emmy Altava.''

She was crying and humiliated when Uncle Leon left the room. She stayed on her bed and shook and hated him for no good reason.

**- - PL - -**

Leon told his niece that he didn't remember her mother's first name. Emmy wasn't sure if he was lying or just being cruel.

These things turned out to be true: Ms. Altava was very skilled; she was very blonde; she did not appear to miss her daughter. Emmy expected to find her mother standing tall and tragic, but instead she was hunched over a computer typing at the speed of snail. Emmy didn't try to speak with her mother; there was no reason to. It would only make her feel worse, and she _didn't need the distraction. _

Emmy did not feel especially connected to the woman clicking the computer keys. She left for her mission the next morning.

* * *

**Thanks in advance to those of you who will leave me feedback! There are two more chapters to come. ****This was unbelievably hard to write, but I've been determined to write a fan fic about Emmy ever since I finished the sixth game. I never really liked her before Azran Legacies (partly because she didn't capture my interest; partly because I was bitter that she replaced Flora) but Azran Legacies gave me a reason to wonder about her past and question what was real about her and what wasn't. **

**Write On!**


	2. Lies

**Phase II: Lies **

The next three years passed like she was crawling her way along the bottom of a mud pit, hardly awake. At times Emmy would suddenly find herself alive and above the mud, and something memorable would happen. Then the muck would rise up to consume everything that was conscious and put her safely back into her trance.

It was mostly pleasant and sometimes frustrating.

''Emmy Altava, Layton mission, day one. This audio diary is for the use and records of Targent. Today I caught up with Hershel Layton while he was traveling to Misthallery. It looks like we'll be staying at the Starry Sky Hotel for the next few nights. The events that keep us here are a little odd, I'll admit, but there's nothing to connect them back to the Azran. The Professor seems to have accepted that I'm going to be his assistant going forward. I haven't had the chance to get into his home or his office yet but the car has been searched. There's nothing of interest. That is all. ''

**- - PL - -**

**To: **aliceInabigworld

**CC: **N/A

**Subject: **Congratulations!

My dear niece,

You've done perfectly. We've received your audio diary and are working on getting you an apartment. London is rather packed, if you've noticed. In the meantime, the money you earn from your job is all yours; spend it on something frivolous. Maybe room service.

Love, your uncle

**- - PL - -**

''Emmy Altava, Layton mission, day three. This audio diary is for the use and records of Targent. This is very important, so listen up! The Professor has discovered a large underground forest he's calling the Golden Garden. The ancient ruin is hidden underneath Misthallery and it's very, very Azran. It's also not very ruined. The air is so fresh and wonderful that the Professor believes it can heal the sick. A little girl named Ariana stayed behind to live in the garden, hoping it will cure her illness.

''There's something else you should know. A youngish man named Jean Descole was set on getting himself into the garden. He went so far as to kidnap two people and tried to level the town to achieve his goal. Descole impersonated the Triton's butler with startling accuracy. The last time I saw him he was wearing a dark cape, a feathered boa and a large hat. He wore a mask, too. He will end up jeopardizing all our hard work if something isn't done, I just know it.

''My last piece of news is that Luke Triton has moved in with the Professor. He's calling himself 'Professor Layton's apprentice'. The whole thing is really cute, but now there's another pair of eyes watching me. My next step is to get a look around the Professor's home while the two of them are at school. That is all.''

**- - PL - -**

The first thing Emmy found that she didn't like was the lack of physical contact. Uncle Leon's hands were always clapping her shoulder or resting on her back. They felt more comfortable guiding her through the Nest then taking the risk that someone might bother her. When Emmy trained with Leon he hit her _hard_. He knocked her flat on her butt; he had no apologies when she stood back up for more.

Hershel Layton would never train Luke in martial arts, but the way he treated those around him attempted to make up for it. Emmy remembered the first time she'd ever been called a lady, and it was most definitely by his mouth. He pulled chairs out for her to sit on and held the door open so she could hop through.

There was a game Emmy played with Uncle Leon, once upon a time: she would run down the hallway as fast as she could and slam the door before he caught up. Then she tried to hold it closed for as long as she could while he pushed his weight against it.

Emmy used to scream herself hoarse at her uncle. When they fought, he called her uncomfortable words. The professor never fought with anyone. He was always right.

Emmy now had an interesting comparison to make: the uncompromising respect of the professor, and every night of her childhood, falling into her dreams with the scratch of Leon's facial hair irritating her forehead.

**- - PL - -**

**To: **aliceInabigworld

**CC: **N/A

**Subject: **A Visit

Dear niece,

I've given you a year and a half without any distractions, and that's more than enough time, I should think. I'm going to come visit you at your apartment tomorrow. Take the day off. We need to spend some time together.

- Your uncle

**- - PL - - **

Jarring, disturbing. That was what being Layton's shadow was like… Uncle Leon's stories blown up and in her face.

More often than not it started with a letter from a ghost of friendships past. The professor went on missions of his own, and they were rarely ever over before some tragedy played out. The most amazing thing was that Emmy and Luke were always allowed to watch. They ran after him, attempting to contribute where they could, and the two of them (with their wheezing and their head scratching) managed to make the professor look like the only functional human being on the left side of the Thames.

Emmy wished her uncle was around to experience it all with her, or at least tell her what she was doing wrong. Luke was the student now, and Layton the teacher, and Emmy supposedly didn't need either of those things. It was all very depressing.


	3. Confusion

**Phase III: Confusion **

''Emmy Altava, Layton mission, day six hundred and thirty-eight. This audio dairy is supposed to be for Targent. Back off! The Professor left Monte d'Or today, so the Nautilus Chamber of Akbadain is wide open…''

**- - PL - -**

Stuffed bear.

Torch.

Letter from Brenda.

Cologne ('borrowed' from the professor).

Too-overdue-to-bother-with library books.

A doodle of Emmy with devil horns. _Nice, Luke. _

The cologne had spilled and saturated everything in Luke's bag. It was oily on Emmy's hands. The professor was probably aware of what had happened and was waiting for his apprentice to come tell him about it. Emmy wondered if there was anything she could do to help Luke out without leaving clues that she'd been pawing through his stuff. Nothing came to mind.

Blimey, that smell was making her dizzy!

She tried to touch Luke's underwear as little as possible, but, at this point, she was basically used to handling his dirty laundry. On one hand, his lack of organization made her job that much easier. On the other hand there was man-smell, and it was _really_ strong. Emmy took five seconds, a few steps backwards and a large breath through her mouth. Luke and the professor wouldn't be done eating for another twenty minutes. There was no need to rush, especially when she didn't feel right.

_Settle down, _she told her stomach.

_Prickle, prickle, _it said.

**- - PL - - **

''Oh, hello, Emmy dear. Come in.''

Emmy pushed the screen door open wider so Luke could rush past her. He liked to do that.

''Good afternoon, Mrs. Layton. Let me carry that,'' Luke said, snatching the teapot out of Lucille Layton's hands.

''There's no need to grab, Luke,'' the professor corrected his apprentice mildly.

''Thank you, young man,'' Lucille said with a wink.

The professor greeted his mother with a hug while Emmy took the delicate china away from Luke. He tried to get it back, but the hug was over too quickly and he had to go back to pretending to be perfect because the professor was watching again. That brat.

''Come right on through to the patio, boys. Oh, and young lady, of course… Hershel, your father will be a little late to our tea party, I'm afraid. He says he's out with the guys, but I know he's probably buying me flowers. That man could never keep a secret in his life. It's our anniversary, you know.''

''Happy Anniversary,'' everyone said at once.

At four o'clock –when the professor was reminding Luke not to touch the back of Emmy's seat and Luke was trying to get one last kick in- Emmy had the same impression of the Layton family that she'd always had.

They were underwhelming.

The fact that two such uninteresting people could have raised _Hershel Layton_ was stunning. They were… incompetent, unfit, unworthy! Emmy didn't consider them to be bad people, but she thought that they were probably bad people to raise someone so important. For some reason, she found herself hoping that his birthparents were more interesting. The professor was, after all, adopted.

**- - PL - -**

**To: **aliceInabigworld

**CC: **N/A

**Subject: **You know.

Niece,

I'm going to send someone to check on you if you don't give us an audio diary tonight. What are you doing!? We agreed that you would contact us every two weeks and we have not heard anything in seven. I've done the best I can for you, but there is a point where you have to become useful. Don't make me wonder if I'm bloody wasting my time on the two of you. If he isn't heading in the right direction, **push him**, and then tell me about it!

Uncle L.

**- - PL - - **

''Ms. Altava, Layton mission, day nine hundred and twenty-three. I'm doing this for Targent. The smallest museum ever to grace the streets of London opened up today and the professor promised Luke ice cream to get him there. What did I get? I got to drive. We ran into an old student of the professor's while we were there and I had to babysit Luke for two hours while they talked about metals and dust. On the plus side, I got another pressed penny for that useless side pocket in my wallet.

''I am sure this will be very helpful in our quest to uncover Azran secrets. I've been thinking deeply about what these events might mean. That is all.''

**- - PL - - **

''There is one vital detail that you're not taking into account, Sheriff.''

Luke slipped his small hand into Emmy's. She curled her fingers around it. The both of them knew that the thief, once revealed, would be furious and could possibly do something rash.

''Only a few people had the key to the vault. You, your deputy, and Mr. Hart.''

This part always made Emmy a little nauseous. She glared at the place where the professor's right hand hung limp next to his thigh. It was going to rise up and convict someone. Any second now…

Emmy turned to Luke and opened her mouth. _I'll protect you, _she said with her lips and not her tongue.

He gave a brave little nod.

''If you weren't at the office, and Mr. Hart has already been proven innocent…''

Emmy bit her tongue.

''Then the thief must be you there!''

**It wasn't her. **The villain the professor pointed out just happened to be someone else. She (not-Emmy was a girl) also refrained from suddenly lunging forward to assassinate Luke, so that was convenient. The image of protecting Luke come into Emmy's mind and brought the prickles back. Nauseous… Nauseous…

Damn the professor's whole pointing performance. It scared the hell out of her.

**- - PL - - **

In the bathroom of the Bostonius, with quivering fingers, Emmy made a list. It was of all the things that were real.

_Teasing with Luke_

_Respect for the professor_

_Lives protected (by solving mysteries)_

_My name _

_Beautiful pictures _

_New places _

_…_

**- - PL - - **

**To: **aliceInabigworld

**CC: **N/A

**Subject: **You

Em,

I know you're frustrated that the professor is moving toward the Nest so slowly. I agree that it will be easy to have this charade over and done with. Still, you should not risk your cover by giving him any more clues.

I know you won't. You're such a good girl. Layton will get here, he always does.

You've been kicking butt out there, sweetheart. Your control is breathtaking. I am overwhelmed with pride at your success, but sometimes I wonder if you're doing this for humanity or just for me. If you are, your loyalty is wonderful. If you're not, then good. I am not as important as your goal.

I love you. Don't you dare give up on this.

- Leon

PS) don't look so outraged; you won't need this email address again.

**FIN. **

* * *

**This story is dedicate to** **Nightfancy because her fic (__****A Necessary Evil) ****gave me the final push to write about Emmy. If you're looking to read more from Emmy's POV while she was working for Targent, it's very well written. **

******Write On! **


End file.
